The Dragon Princess {𝖠𝖳𝖫𝖠}

𝘌𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯?

🔥Miozomi's POV🔥

Chapter: 1 Epi: 2

"My plan for the avatars escape was in full blow, but what consequence would I have to face later"

The deck hums beneath my boots, a low growl of metal against water. The moon slowly rising, and spills across the ship, catching the edges of Zuko's armor as he turns the Avatar's staff over in his hands.

"This staff would make a great gift for our father," he says finally, his voice low and clipped, like he's trying to sound in control. "I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that, being raised by monks and all."

Aang doesn't answer, just stares down at the deck.

I cross my arms, biting the inside of my cheek. "Really, Zuko?" I say before I can stop myself. The look he gives me could melt steel.

I roll my eyes—mentally this time—and look away, letting him have his moment.

It's easier than arguing.

He exhales sharply, as if my presence alone exhausts him. "As I was saying," he continues, his voice formal again, "escort the prisoner to his cell. And take this to my quarters."

He hands me the staff, his tone leaving no room for argument. I bow my head slightly. "Yes, Ani-sama."

He walks off with Uncle Iroh, who pauses only long enough to meet my eyes with that soft, knowing look he always gives when he's already figured me out. Then they're gone, swallowed by the shadows of the corridor.

I turn the staff over in my hands. The wood is smooth, humming faintly with leftover energy—like it's breathing. It feels alive. It feels wrong in my hands. I hand it to Uncle for safekeeping and motion for the guards to follow me.

We lead the Avatar below deck. The air there is thicker, warmer, heavy with smoke and oil. Torches line the hall, flickering like heartbeat pulses against the metal walls. The soldiers march stiffly on either side of Aang. He walks calmly between them, head high, like this isn't a prison at all.

I keep my gaze forward, but my mind drifts. Zuko's words replay in my head. "We're going home."
Home.
The word feels sharp in my chest. The Fire Nation hasn't felt like home for a long time—not since the night everything changed.

"So..." Aang's voice breaks the quiet. "What's your name, pretty girl?"

I almost trip over my own feet. "It's... Miozomi," I say softly, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

"That's a beautiful name," he says without hesitation. His tone is genuine—too genuine.

The heat rises to my cheeks before I can fight it. "Thank you," I manage, voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm Aang, by the way."

I smirk despite myself. "I know. You're kind of hard to miss, seeing as my brother's been obsessed with finding you."

He laughs lightly, and something about the sound feels like sunlight through fog.

We turn a corner. The ship creaks around us, the water whispering against its hull. The guards are close behind, weapons clinking softly against their armor. My eyes flick between them, watching their movements. They're tired, distracted—good.

I can hear Zuko's voice again in my head, steady and full of that dangerous hope: We're going home.
But what kind of home is waiting for us? A cold throne room? Father's disappointment? Another scar, maybe not on skin this time, but somewhere deeper?